


cookie dough christmas

by kaatiekinss



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Future Fic, Mutual Pining, probably a filthy outtake to follow so stay tuned, the faintest hints of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaatiekinss/pseuds/kaatiekinss
Summary: Kiara's been pining for years. So has JJ. Their moment finally comes. Because of Christmas cookies.My piece for the Christmas Fic Exchange! This is for Hannah, Merry Christmas babe! <3
Relationships: JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara/Pope (Outer Banks), Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48
Collections: Jiara Ocean Kiss Soulmate Endgame Excellence (aka a jiara-centric fic collection)





	cookie dough christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unspokenfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspokenfaith/gifts).



There are few things that make Kiara happier than baking Christmas cookies. As a kid, it was a Christmas Eve tradition; all day spent elbow-deep in sugar cookie dough, face smudged with flour, butter under her nails, laughing with her dad. With the soft croon of Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby in the background and homemade eggnog in her mom’s best crystal, Kiara had some of the happiest times of her entire life.

Now, it’s something she shares with Sarah and the boys. Their  _ own _ Christmastime tradition. They’ve swapped out Nat and Bing for Mariah and Michael, and eggnog is the kind from the carton, poured into mismatched plastic cups, instead of homemade and served in fine crystal, but it’s good and it’s merry and it’s  _ theirs _ .

That summer had brought them all closer together, and since then the five of them had been pretty much inseparable. They clung to each other those first few months after Sarah and John B came home, had spent pretty much every waking moment together since, bound by trauma and a deeper level of friendship, one only achieved by several shared near-death experiences.

She wasn’t sure when she fell in love with JJ. It might have been when he sacrificed himself to protect Pope. It might have been when he risked his father’s wrath to help John B. It definitely could have been the look of absolute devastation and heartbreak on his face when she kissed his best friend.

Kiara remembers all too vividly the swift and overwhelming feeling of regret as soon as she turned around and saw JJ’s face. All she could think was,  _ Oh God, what have I done? _ He had recovered quickly, but not quick enough. Not before she caught his eyes, deep and ocean blue, and saw the pain there, the death of something between the two of them before it even had the chance to live. 

Things with Pope didn’t work out. How could they? When the only reason she had kissed him in the first place was because of too many emotions and not enough sense. It hadn’t been nearly as hard as she expected; it wasn’t working, they both knew it, and in the end, they parted amicably. 

Things went back to much the same as before. Except, of course, for the fact that now, she knows she’s in love with her best friend. JJ treats her the same as he always has, although, after everything, there seems to be some hesitation on his part. He’ll pause, before he touches her or says something, like he has to think about it first. She wants to know what he’s thinking, daring to hope that maybe he still feels something for her, despite all that’s happened. 

Her answer comes Christmas Eve, unexpected and miraculous in its arrival. They’re all gathered at the Chateau, the hour late and the sky dark and studded with stars. It’s been a tradition to gather after the completion of family obligations, even when it means sneaking home at ungodly hours to participate in their respective Christmas mornings. This year, with the coordination of different semester schedules and families cramming in ‘holiday quality time’ into their short winter break, Christmas Eve is the first time they’ve all really been together, wholeheartedly and without interruption. It’s usually down to Kie and Sarah to actually  _ make _ the cookies, but the boys always jostle for a place at the counter to decorate them, elbows bumping, frosting and sprinkles ending up everywhere from the ceiling to Kiara’s hair. 

JJ sneaks into the kitchen just as she slides the last batch into the oven, looking for the dregs of the batter, which Sarah always lets him lick from the bowl and the spoon, no matter how much Kiara (and Pope) warn against potential foodborne illnesses. 

“You’re gonna get salmonella,” Kiara says, though there’s no bite to her tone, and she’s smiling as she turns away from the oven, catching him in the act of using his finger to clean the bowl.

“Eh,” one shoulder comes up in a lazy shrug, “totally worth it.” The smile he sends her way is carefree and joyous and Kiara can feel her heart flutter. She slides the oven mitts off and lays them on the counter, leaning against the edge as she watches him devour the raw dough like a little kid. 

JJ looks good. Different, yet the same, his body growing into that of a man, toned and hardened from his days spent at the mechanic shop and surfing the swells. But at heart, he’s still the boy she fell in love with all those years ago, golden and alive. 

When he walks to the sink to wipe his hands off on the washcloth (rather than on his jeans -- she’s shocked and maybe a little impressed) JJ’s so close to her that he brushes her as he moves, his scent so familiar; Old Spice, saltwater, and motor oil. 

It takes her back in time, to  _ that _ summer especially, to chasing gold and dodging bullets, to hot tubs on the lawn and graveyards in the dark. To golden afternoons and pink mornings on the Pogue, laughing and drinking, young and free. 

She meets JJ’s eyes when he says her name, and then he’s stepping closer, thumb rising to touch her cheek and Kiara stops breathing. She leans forward slightly, eyes fluttering closed, thinking  _ this is it. He’s going to kiss me _ .

But he doesn’t kiss her. 

“You got some...uh, some flour,” and then he’s clearing his throat and stepping away, holding his thumb out to show her. And yes, there is indeed flour there. Kiara blinks slowly, once, twice, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her whole, anything to end the painful awkwardness of this moment. 

“Yup, thanks.” She turns around way too fast to play it off nonchalantly, and her cheeks burn as she focuses on scrubbing a bit of baked-on batter off the top of the stove. 

JJ chews the inside of his lip, wanting to say something but not wanting to embarrass her more. He wanted to kiss her. Has thought about it for years. She was expecting it. He could tell by the catch of her breath and the way she leaned into his touch, eyes falling closed. And yet he didn’t. Those old demons, the ones that tell him he’s unworthy and undeserving, the same ones he thought he’d conquered long ago, had stopped him. Clawed their way up the inside of his chest and gripped his heart with a frozen hand.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

JJ doesn’t see the hot, embarrassed tears that prick the corner of Kiara’s eyes, or how quickly she wipes them away with the backs of her hands. Kiara doesn’t see JJ’s nervous swallow, how he itches to reach out and touch her, how he clenches his fist to stop himself.

Good food and hearty conversation paired with the crackling of a warm fire puts everyone into a coma fairly early. John B and Sarah are knocked out on the couch, snuggled around each other like sloths, and Pope is curled up in one of the big armchairs by the fire, head thrown back and snoring lightly. Kiara smiles fondly as she stands and begins to collect the dirty dishes, heart full now that they’re all together and content. 

The second to last batch of sugar cookies has just come out of the oven, the last one nearly done, and are cooling on a paper bag, the sweet smells of baked butter and sugar wafting through the air and Kiara can’t help but feel like this is Christmas; everything the holiday season is supposed to be. Surrounded by Sarah and her boys feels like exactly where she belongs. 

She’s running the water, testing it with her hand and waiting for it to get hot, back turned toward the living room. She’s loading the first round of dirty dishes into the sink when the sound of bare feet shuffling across well-worn wood floors reaches her ears.

“Want some help?” JJ is carrying the second half of the dirty dishes, plates and silverware and cups balanced on his arms, a tentative smile on his face. 

“Sure.” 

Despite the earlier awkwardness, the two of them fall into an easy silence; comfortable, even. Kiara washes while JJ dries, and she has to keep reminding herself to focus on cleaning the plates and not the way his fingers wield the dish towel to wipe dry every nook and cranny. Her phone is playing her Christmas playlist, shuffling through various artists and genres, and when she hears the opening notes of The Christmas Song, she gives a happy little dance without thinking. 

JJ smiles at her, and she catches it out of the corner of her eye. 

“What?” She asks him, trying to stop her own smile and failing spectacularly. She can’t help it. He’s always been contagious like that; the way sunshine is, warm and golden, bright and comforting.

“Nothing, I just like it when you smile.” 

Kiara flushes and looks back down at the sink, rewashing the glass in her hand before rinsing it under the tap and handing it to him. The moment their hands brush each other it’s like a bolt of electricity shoots up her arm. 

She looks up at JJ, curious if he felt it, too. His expression tells her he did. He licks his lips, blinks three times. His gaze drops to their hands, one of his inching closer to hers where they grip the edge of the sink, pinkie finger to pinkie finger. Kiara turns and so does he, and then they’re face to face. This time he’s the one who leans in, and Kiara closes her eyes, braces for the feel of his lips on hers,  _ finally _ . 

She can sense how close he is, feel his breath on her face, the barely-there brush of his lips against hers. 

And then the oven timer goes off. 

The sharp tone pierces through the moment, shattering the stillness of the kitchen late at night. JJ licks his lips again and he’s so close she can feel the wetness of his tongue as it smooths across his skin.

“Cookies are done,” he says quietly. 

“I should…” Kiara trails off, distracted by his close proximity, his smell in her nose, and how they’ve gravitated toward one another, their foreheads now almost touching, “I should take them out of the oven.” 

“Yeah.”

It kills her to step away from him, makes her chest physically ache with the distance she has to put between the two of them. But the moment’s passed. She’s distracted as she pulls the sheet tray out of the oven, nearly dropping them all on the floor as she tilts it unintentionally. JJ stays put by the sink, leaning over it now, head hanging a little bit as he gnaws at his lip. 

She only looks away for a minute, setting the hot sheet pan on the laid out oven mitts on top of the counter and then turning around to switch the oven off. 

“Ouch, God damn it!” Kiara turns back around, seeing JJ with his fingertip in his mouth, eyebrows drawn together. He tried to take a fresh cookie, straight out of the oven, the  _ moron _ . 

“Are you  _ stupid _ ?” she asks, “Those are hot, dumbass.” He mocks her poorly, dragging the corners of his mouth down and imitating her. It’s not offensive, just common, regular and familiar and funny. 

“I’m hungry,” he whines, and she rolls her eyes. 

“We ate like an hour ago.” He sticks out his lower lip, pouting, and her eyes catch on it, her traitorous brain wondering what it might feel like tucked between her own. 

“Still,” he says, sounding more like a petulant boy than an actual adult. 

She rolls her eyes and turns around, taking the spatula and scooping the fresh cookies off onto another paper bag. Peripherally, she notices JJ turn around behind her, snatching a rag off the handle of the oven. She doesn’t notice him twirling it between his hands before it’s too late. 

Spinning around, Kiara reacts the exact moment after JJ cracks the towel. It snaps against her ass, making a noise loud enough to wake up the others in the living room if they weren’t already passed out. Her mouth hangs open in faux offense, but she’s smiling as she dunks her hands in the sink and flicks the water at him in retaliation. 

JJ’s grin as he wipes the water off his face with his hands is devious. Kiara backs away, hands raised in surrender, but smiling all the same, trying desperately to hold in her laughter. 

“JJ…” She warns, stepping backwards until her ass meets the opposite counter. He moves over her, boxing her in with his body. Kiara’s breath catches, thinking maybe, hopefully,  _ finally _ , he’ll kiss her. 

Arms on either side of her, JJ leans in slowly, those eyes, deep and blue and piercing, flitting back and forth from her eyes to her lips. 

Kiara’s holding her breath, waiting to fall, balanced on the precipice of this moment she’s been thinking about for years. JJ is nervous; scared of fucking it up, of crossing a line, of disappointing her, but wanting to go for it all the same. 

“Kiara…” 

He says her name, softly, on an exhale as his eyes fall closed, and that’s it for her. She rises on her toes, eliminating those last few inches between their mouths, pressing her lips against his in a kiss, tender, tentative, and full of promise, the way first kisses are. 

JJ kisses her back, lips moving against hers like they’ve been doing this for years, like this was always where they were headed. The heat between them only grows with each movement, the kiss going from soft to sexy quickly. It’s the culmination of nearly three years of wanting and wishing and hoping. Endless hours spent pining for the other, thinking about what this thing between them would look like, if only they let it come to be, allowed themselves to fall into each other in the way they both had right now.

Kiara arches off the counter and into his body, arms coming up to twine around his neck, breasts pressing against his chest. His hands move from the counter at her side to her hips, hands squeezing the flesh there before sliding down, gripping her ass, and then her thighs, bending his knees and lifting her up. He sets her on the counter and thrusts his hips forward, grinding against the warmth between her legs. 

She gasps, their lips separating for a brief moment, and JJ begins moving down her body. 

“J…” The nickname leaves her lips like a prayer, soft and breathy, barely there. A whisper. “What are you doing?”

He crouches in front of her, pushing her skirt up so it bunches around her waist, fingers wrapping around the elastic of her panties and pulling them down and off of her. 

“Eating.” He slides her legs over his shoulders, her feet hanging down his back, thighs spread. “I told you I was still hungry.” 

-

Later on, JJ makes bedroom eyes at Kiara over his sugar cookie, and she blushes under his stare, Sarah notices the hickeys on her neck, and the peculiar way her skirt has wrinkled, almost like it had been pushed up for an extended amount of time. 

“Wait a damn minute, did you two fuck in the kitchen?!” 

JJ waggles his eyebrows and Kiara doesn’t say anything, looking everywhere but at her best friend, her blush intensifying. Sarah takes it for what it is: a confirmation. She lets out an ear-piercing squeal and bounces up and down on the couch. 

“Oh my God, you did!” She turns to her boyfriend, who’s sitting next to her with a stunned look on his face. “John B, you owe me $50.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @aarchiess.


End file.
